A Conflict of Interest
by erica1531
Summary: A somewhat meandering TM piece between S2 and S3. It contains copious amounts of Action!Michelle and delves into the TM dynamic. A mixture of action, character exploration, and fluff. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**_ I'm not sure yet how long this is going to be and how far it's going to go, but for the moment I'm estimating around five chapters. The plot centers around CTU, but much of the content is more analytical, and semi-independent from the action. Rated Tfor language and graphic violence. Takes place after the wedding and before S3. I appreciate reviews, especially suggestions for improvement._

* * *

Michelle cursed softly as the harsh beeping of her alarm jerked her out of the haze of sleep. Already? Jesus. Michelle rolled over to turn it off, and then massaged her temples as she sat up. God, she was tired.

They had been working on a credible mass bomb threat for several days now, and the hours had been long. They'd been following leads: dead leads, leads that led to other leads that led to dead leads; picking up information and zeroing in on targets, cells, motives.

Yesterday, after the rest of the day shift had gone home, Michelle had stayed on to work. Through that long night, Michelle had been analyzing data flow that all seemed to be linked together, although the tracings came from a plethora of different locations.

Scramblers, multiple trace re-routings, and the huge variety of locations made it impossible to pinpoint any of them as anyplace worth apprehending, but Michelle had been getting close. Narrowing it down to one possible group; narrowing down the range of targets; narrowing down the number of targets; narrowing down the type of explosive.

She'd still been working when Tony and Jack and Chloe and everyone else had come in early the next morning, and around that time there had been a lull. She'd been exhausted, and was given a couple hours to go home and get some rest. It didn't look like any of them would be getting back to regular hours any time soon and they'd need her to work god-only-knew how late tonight.

It was not a good week.

When she realized she was going to have to put on actual clothes to go back to work, Michelle groaned in exasperation. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd done laundry. Shrugging indifferently, Michelle pulled on a black knee-length skirt and white tank-top, neither of which had been washed since the last time she'd worn them, and added an open burgundy top that, at least, was clean.

As she sipped her coffee, Michelle was pleased to see that she had fifteen minutes before she had to leave for work. Luxuriating in the bliss of this break, Michelle was more than a little annoyed to hear her cell phone ring.

"Dessler."

"Hey, it's me. We just picked up a lead on a possible meeting place for one of the terrorist cells. Satellite of the building's confirmed that that it's definitely it. Jack is leading a team in fifteen minutes and we need you here to run point."

Michelle sighed inwardly. So much for her date with the coffee. Who was she to think that things like sleeping and eating actually happened when they were on high alert? "Yeah, I was just getting ready to leave. I'll be right there." She hung up the phone and, taking a last sip of the steaming liquid in front of her, flicked off the lights as she walked out the door.

Tony's terse tone wasn't exactly comforting when stress and fatigue were rendering Michelle an emotional wreck underneath the flawless professional façade. Actually, she and Tony hadn't spoken much at all over the past couple of days- it had just been too busy. They'd been far too swamped with work to exchange even a smile.

While she drove through the midmorning sun toward her office, Michelle contemplated that. It was, she supposed, the downfall of the relationship. During tense, high-stress times like these, she and Tony needed each other's support the most, but the long hours made it the time when they interacted with each other the least. Tony, especially, actually seemed to push her away during these times.

Maybe she would bring up the subject with him after they had dealt with this the current crisis. But now was not the time. As Michelle stepped onto the floor at CTU, Tony's first words, sans any kind of greeting, were a barrage of information about the lead that had been picked up. Michelle logged onto her system and, typing rapidly, set to work coordinating her end of the operation.

"We're all set." Michelle told Tony, who was standing behind her, without bothering to turn around and look at him.

"Okay. I want Chloe monitoring sat and infrared." Tony turned and moved away from Michelle's workstation.

"I'm _on_ it!" Chloe called from across the room, "You told me that ten minutes ago, you know. You don't have to keep repeating yourself."

"Chloe." Michelle took her eyes off the screen for the first time since she had arrived at CTU. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you how vital this mission is. If we can apprehend the operatives in this hideout, the information we get from them will shed light on everything we've been dealing with for the past four days. So just get it done, okay?"

"Fine." Chloe turned back toward her workstation, and Tony strode back across the floor toward Michelle, who was coordinating with Jack.

"Okay, you're clear to go in, Jack. Chloe's monitoring sat and infrared and I've got your feed on my screen." Michelle was startled to suddenly feel Tony right behind her.

"Michelle," he hissed, "I don't need you standing up for me, okay? You worry about your work and I'll worry about mine."

"That's fine, Tony," Michelle said expressionlessly, acutely aware of the eyes staring at them from across the floor She was entirely conscious that an ambiguous reply was the only way to fend off not only the nosiness of her ever-prying office, but more importantly, her own emotions. "Let's just make sure Jack gets through, okay?"

"Yeah," Tony turned away, looking at the monitor without meeting Michelle's eyes.

"Clear. Clear." Tony and Michelle listened closely, watching, the feed silently. "Clear." Jack's voice came over the unit again. Then they heard gunshots.

"Jack? Jack, who fired?" Michelle demanded over her earpiece.

"They did first and we returned," Jack answered, "two hostiles down. We are no longer covert. I repeat; we are no longer covert!" Michelle heard footsteps pounding and more gunshots.

"All teams move in! We are no longer covert; all teams move in!" Michelle gave the order as she watched the screen tensely, waiting for communication on Jack's end.

From where he stood looking over Chloe's shoulder, Tony called to Michelle, "What do you have?"

"Jack and Chase are in… Baker's team is in… the backup teams are in…"

"Hostile down!" from Baker.

"Two hostiles down!" from Jack.

"Hostile down!" from Chase.

Michelle let out the breath she wasn't aware she had been holding. No matter how many times she did this, she never got used to it. She could do it with the necessary emotional detachment, yes, but it would never be easy.

"How many hostiles left, Jack?"

"All down. I repeat; all hostiles down."

* * *

"Tony, we got a location on a guy called Linden who's been behind everything we've been working on this week. I want Chloe working up everything we have on him. We're bringing everyone who's still breathing back to CTU for questioning."

"Okay, Jack. Keep in touch." Tony hung up the phone and sighed. It was shaping up to be a very long week, and Michelle hadn't been exactly dripping with sugar.

Well, he'd been harsh on her, he knew. But when she was tense like this, all he wanted to gather her into his arms and kiss everything away. So when they were in this kind of situation, forcibly keeping his distance was the only way he knew to keep from ripping off her clothes and ravaging her on the floor of his office.

"Michelle, cross-reference what Chloe finds on this guy with all agencies."

"Yeah, I know. Should I contact local law enforcement?" Michelle answered him shortly, her eyes once again glued to her monitor.

"Yes, contact LAPD. I shouldn't have to tell you that." Before she had time to respond, Tony turned away from her hurt face and demanded of Jack: "What's the location you got on this guy?"

"It's about forty-five minutes from where we are but only ten from CTU. We'll head out once we've got these guys in for questioning."

Chloe's voice came onto the comm unit, sounding urgent. "No, Jack! We don't have time for that! I just got a red-flagged pattern on Linden's Interpol profile. All major attacks he's done previously have been on Easter Sunday- that's today. And at noon. We're running out of time."

"Sonofabitch- Tony, start working up probable targets. If this guy has a pattern like that, he's going to have more. Get Chloe on it."

"Hold on a minute, Jack. Easter Sunday- let's be logical here. We need to start evacuating churches."

"No," Jack interjected, "Too obvious. And if we start evacuating, he's going to know we're onto him. What else has Chloe got so far?"

"Well, your right about the churches. None of his targets have been religious in the past- it's always been something off." Chloe's voice came across again, "And you're right about not evacuating, too. Linden gets spooked easily and he's good at detecting when people have come onto him or invaded his safehouses. But if he is apprehended, he and his field teams have a record of being fairly incompetent in close combat."

"So what you're saying is we're going to want one good agent to go in and take care of it?"

"As far as I can see, but it's your call, Jack."

"Yeah. You're right. I'm gonna need Michelle to lead a team to the location stat." Jack's voice clearly indicated that he was expecting a fight.

Michelle's official title was "Intelligence Agent," a position that was as vague in specifications as it was weighty in circumstance. Most of her work was done in front of a computer; that was what she was good at. But she was trained in field ops, and at that point in her career, already a seasoned agent. In some proximity or another, she usually ended up in the field around once a month, in some situations considerably more dangerous than others.

It had always been difficult for Tony when Michelle ended up in the field, and as his relationship with Michelle had progressed, he had grown increasingly protective; increasingly unwilling to let Michelle go out.

This was the first time she was needed in the field since they'd been married, and she knew he was going to resist. Michelle rolled her eyes imperceptibly and glanced behind her at Tony.

"Goddamnit, Jack, no!" Michelle was, as usual, slightly flattered and intensely annoyed. She had been just fine before things had started between them, and she'd _be_ fine if he'd just let her to her job. And this was her job; she'd signed on because she wanted to do it.

"Tony, all our other people who could handle this are too far away. Whoever goes in needs the experience and special training. It has to be Michelle," Jack said patiently, understanding Tony's protectiveness over his wife but nonetheless irritated at his single-mindedness.

"I'll go! I outrank her and I have more experience than she does. Why does it have to be Michelle?"

"Because we need you to run CTU and help us to interrogate the rest of these guys when they get back. You have more interrogation experience than she does. We need you at CTU and Michelle in the field. That's all there is to say, Tony."

"I'll go change." Michelle had logged off her system during the heated exchange, and turned toward the locker rooms before Tony had time to react.


	2. Chapter 2

"No one move in until I give the order. Linden's only got three guards with him and it is absolutely vital that they don't know we're here. Maintain the blind perimeter and be ready for my order." Michelle briefed her teams one last time as she flicked her safety off and her silencer on, and got ready to go in by herself.

"Chloe, do we have any change in position?" Michelle asked as she cautiously approached the back basement door.

"No. The first guard is still on the inside entrance to the basement. The other three people are moving around upstairs, but I'm pretty sure they're in the same room. You're good to go."

"Copy that." With her gun drawn, Michelle took a deep breath and slipped inside the door. The guard turned when he heard it open, but Michelle had surprise on her side. Before he realized what was happening, Michelle had him pressed against the wall with her gun to the back of his head. The familiar but always exhilarating rush of adrenaline coursed through her, mixing with the fear and thrill already present.

Having restrained the man twice her size, Michelle neatly knocked the gun from his hand and removed a knife and a second gun from his waist. She slipped both into her own holsters under her black leather jacket.

"Don't make a sound or I will kill you right now," she hissed, keeping the gun against his head as she stepped back and pulled out her handcuffs. She snapped them onto him, and then kicked him to the floor. Michelle stood over him with her gun aimed directly at his head.

"How many more people in the building?" she demanded. This was among the most basic and useful interrogation techniques. Ask a question you already knew the answer to so you'd know if he was lying.

Silence.

"Tell me now."

Silence.

"Fine. I'll let my teams interrogate you later." Michelle reached down and deftly applied a sleeper hold before handcuffing the man to a secure pipe and gliding into the next room.

"Michelle." Chloe's voice came over the earpiece again. "The lower floor is clear. Find a staircase and go up. Do not open any doors until I clear the room."

"Copy that, Chloe. I'm going upstairs now… I see the door. Am I clear to go in?" Michelle stood with her back against the wall with her gun in front of her, tensely awaiting Chloe's clear to enter.

"Yes. We have no bodies in the room around you."

"I'm going in." Michelle breathed deeply before putting a hand on the knob and kicking the door open. She pressed herself against the wall of the room. It was rectangular and totally empty save for another door on the opposite end. "What's the position, Chloe?"

"…Chloe?" Michelle heard static. Nothing but static. "Damnit," she muttered under her breath. There was no way she could try her cell; the beeping would give her away. She was on her own. Michelle pushed the door closed behind her and cautiously approached the door opposite.

She would never, ever admit it, but Michelle was terrified. If her comm had gone dead, it sure as hell wasn't a coincidence, and it meant that Linden's men must have known that CTU had gone in. And she was on her own, severely outnumbered, and without any idea where the hostiles were.

Well, she thought to herself, that made it all the more vital that she take down the three remaining hostiles. If she could neutralize all of them, then she could get in contact with CTU and this would work. Having restored her confidence, the confidence indispensable to a field agent if she wanted to be successful, Michelle prepared herself to go in.

* * *

"Damnit!" Chloe typed another code into her keyboard, and when that didn't work, she leaned back and bit her nails. Of all the goddamned habits she could have…

"Chloe, what the hell is going on?" Furious, Tony stormed over to Chloe, staring at the dead screen and static speaker.

"Someone activated some kind of jamming signal. They disabled Michelle's comm." Chloe reached for her keyboard again and brought up an application finder.

"Well, can you override it?" Tony ran a hand through his hair, exerting every bit of self-restraint that he had not to go out of his mind right there on the CTU floor.

"I'm trying! But I don't think so… we're just gonna have to wait for Michelle to contact us. We can't try her cell; it'll make too much noise."

"Can't you do anything?"

"I'm trying to find out what kind of program could disable our comm, but realistically, no."

"Damnit!"

* * *

Breathing hard, Michelle nudged open the door with one foot. A man, whom she noted was not Linden, was standing behind it. He raised his gun to her as she entered, but she was quicker, and leveled her gun at his head before his had been fully raised. She used an elbow to knock the gun from his hand, kneeing him in the back as he tried to reach around.

"Put your hands on your head…Do it!" Slowly, the man lifted his hands and placed them on his head, looking at Michelle with utter disgust. "Get on your knees!" Again, he grudgingly complied.

Keeping her gun pointing directly at his head, Michelle pulled out another set of handcuffs. "Cuff yourself," she ordered, extending the cuffs with one hand while the other continued to hold the gun steadily at his head.

Satisfied with him for the moment, Michelle glanced towards the half-open window to the outside that she had seen when she entered. It left her vulnerable to have it open. Without moving the position of her gun, Michelle edged towards the window and slowly inched it down. It was while Michelle was sliding the window shut that a bullet came whizzing through the grate in the upper left of the wall.

Michelle choked back a scream as the bullet shot through her upper right arm, the pain forcing her to drop her gun. _Damnit! Damnit, how the hell am I… _

Cursing herself for allowing pain to disarm her, Michelle bit her lip so hard it bled to keep from crying out, and moved toward her gun. But before her left hand reached the weapon, she felt something heavy slam into the back of her head and everything went dark…

* * *

Michelle woke to the sound of heavy breathing over her. As she attempted to orient herself, her first thought was of the pain. Almost slipping back into unconsciousness from the throbbing of her head and intensely painful sensations in her arm, Michelle tried to figure out where she was. For a brief moment she had no idea what she was doing or where she had been, but all in a rush she knew what was happening. Michelle forced herself alert and quickly became aware of her surroundings.

The heavy breathing was from a man she hadn't seen before… he had a hand on the waistband of her pants and the other was groping down the v-neck of her top to her breasts. He was starting to slide her waistband off her hips…

Though barely conscious, Michelle was fast aware of what situation she was in, and instinct and training kicked in to get her out of it. She knew he didn't realize she was awake; that was to her advantage.

It took only a matter of seconds from the time she regained consciousness for Michelle to use her left arm to twist back the hand reaching into her bra so that its owner shouted in pain, and then she shoved her knee into his groin and pushed him off of her.

Able, then, to sit up and get her bearings, while the man rolled to the side, Michelle saw that the man she had cuffed earlier was now leveling a gun at her. He was talking to the other man, the man who had been on her.

"You wouldn't have had time for this now, anyway. Linden wants her the second she's awake."

* * *

Struggling not to pass out and overcome by pain, Michelle forced herself to stay alert as Linden entered the room and approached her, standing over her, where she had been forced onto her back.

"I need to know how much your people know about me. You're going to tell me."

Michelle was silent.

"Fine, then. We can do it this way if you want."

Linden shoved up the sleeve of her jacket, staring intently at her bloody arm. He appeared to be satisfied with what he saw, because the twitching of a smile played at his lips as he reached back and produced a knife.

Unable to help herself, Michelle groaned as the knife traced in a full circle around her arm, cutting deep and gauging at the bullet wound. She forced away the tears forming behind her eyes and again bit back the scream trying desperately to exit her throat.

"Are you working alone?"

Michelle was silent again, trying instead to figure out how to get out of this. How the hell was she going to get out of this? Her weapons had been taken from her, all three men were staring at her… and then it came to her. She had to distract them; do something that would make them loose their focus.

Linden had his knife at her face by then, and she knew she didn't have much time. She whipped her head around, ignoring the intense pain from the deep gash she'd opened on the side of her face by dragging it across the knife.

"Jack!" she shouted. In that moment, Linden fumbled and his men turned around. Before he had time to realize that no one was there, Michelle had pushed him off of her and had the knife at his throat.

One of Linden's men had gone out into the hallway to look for the man who was not and never had been there. The other had shot at Michelle, but missed. Before he had time to hit her again, she'd gotten hold of Linden's gun and she shot Linden's man, fatally. Just as well; as long as they had Linden, his men weren't vital for information.

Michelle used the butt of her gun to knock Linden unconscious, then slipped out into the hallway. Catching sight of the other guard, she aimed at his leg and pulled the trigger, and as he fell, she knocked him out.

Too drained and too wary to search for another exit, Michelle returned to the other room and slipped out the window. Out of the immediate danger that had made her numb to her injuries, Michelle almost passed out when a surge of pain came over her. It hurt so much. So much. And she felt lightheaded and dizzy; not only had that blow to the head been severe, but she knew she'd lost a lot of blood. After a few seconds, she snapped back to reality. _You can't do this now, Michelle. _Drawing a deep, long breath, Michelle regained her composure and managed to dial.

"This is Dessler. All teams, come in! I need all teams on the first floor and the basement, now! Move! We have three hostiles down and I want them alive. Move! Now!"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** _Please note that CHANGES HAVE BEEN MADE to the first two chapters in order to rectify what I identified to be a rather gaping plothole in regards to the threat. I don't like writing threats and I'm not particularly good at it- I prefer to think of it as writing situations that get Michelle in the field. That just entails coming up with a situation for her to be there. ;) Anyway, nothing big, but changes nonetheless. As always, I appreciate reviews._

* * *

It had been almost half an hour with absolutely no idea what was happening with Michelle. They couldn't order the teams in, yet. They needed an agent with specific qualifications to handle such a sensitive situation, and Jack had still not arrived. To send in teams without the proper training would compromise Michelle's position, whatever it was.

Everything inside Tony was breaking during those endless minutes. Michelle. His Michelle. Damnit, he should have gone. He should never have let her out there. Michelle. She was in there with multiple armed terrorists, by herself and at a strategic disadvantage.

Never mind that this particular terrorist was known for his poor execution of close-contact field ops. Never mind that Michelle was an agent with training and experience that made standard law officers look like hopelessly naive, incompetent children. Never mind that Michelle was smart and resourceful enough to get out of every damning situation she'd been in before. That was his Michelle in there and he couldn't protect her.

She had to be okay. He couldn't live without her; he knew he never could. He could never live with _himself_ if anything happened to her because he let her go out there. He couldn't. Why hadn't he told her how much he loved her? Why had he been so short with her lately? Michelle. His thoughts were rudely interrupted when he heard Michelle's second-in-command come in over comm.

"Move, all teams move! We just got the order from Dessler, hostiles down but still alive, we need to go in now!" The sound of pounding footsteps and cocking guns sounded over the speaker.

"Is Michelle okay?" Tony asked, as sweet relief flooded through him hearing that she was still alive.

The field agents, though, never heard the question. Chloe had clamped her hand over their end of the sound as soon as she knew where he was going. "What the hell are you doing, Tony? They need to concentrate on not getting killed by terrorists; they don't have time for that. Every second counts and you know it."

"Michelle…"

"Well, clearly she's alive, or she wouldn't be giving orders, would she? I think it's highly inappropriate that you're letting your relationship with Michelle interfere with your work, and I really think that's something Division should be aware of-"

"Chloe, that's enough, goddamnit!"

* * *

As her teams swarmed into the building, Michelle stood back, electing not to reenter. She was annoyed with herself for not being able to lead her own teams, but she felt dizzy and everything hurt so badly…

"Dessler? Michelle, what the hell happened?" An agent who was moving in to close the hard perimeter was the first to see their lead agent since her comm had gone down. He found her standing at the edge of the house, her gun held to the window by an unsteady hand, with blood pouring from her arm and face.

"I didn't have access to infrared after my comm went off and they found me before I found them. I'm fine." This was, depending on interpretation, the truth or not. She had some fairly severe stab wounds, a bullet hole in her arm, and had been knocked out for several minutes, but in terms of field ops, she _was_ fine. She was alive and she had no immediately critical injuries.

"I got this exit," the agent said simply, "head over to medical."

"Yeah." Michelle, drawing on all the strength remaining in her body, made her way over to where her teams had set up. She approached the tactical agent who had been left directing field comm.

"Agent Dessler?"

"Yeah," she murmured, putting pressure on her arm to staunch the flow of blood.

"You need medical."

"I need them to stop the bleeding, but I'm going to need to go back to CTU and deal with the interrogations; we don't have much time."

The agent was already calling over medical. "You don't really look like you're going to be able to…"

"Look, I'll have CTU medical deal with it, but I am going back to CTU as an agent, not a patient. Make that clear."

"Agent Dess-"

"That's an order." Michelle was vaguely aware of the medic stopping the blood, but she was paying more attention to the comm unit. Over it, she heard the words she'd been waiting for.

"All hostiles in custody. I repeat: all hostiles in custody."

Her response was immediate. "I want one team sweeping the building for everything you can find and the rest of you to bring them back to CTU for interrogation. Don't waste time, because we don't have any." Michelle extended the control she'd gotten over her hurting body to take command over the current situation; it was the only thing that mattered right then.

And then she heard Tony's voice over comm. "Michelle. Oh my god, Michelle. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine…" Michelle hesitated, unwilling to let Tony know what kind of condition she was in. He wasn't going to be pleased- but he'd find out soon enough anyway, best to just get it over with.

"Are you hurt? What happened, Michelle?"

"I, uh… I got shot in the arm. Some stab wounds around that… a pretty deep lac on the side of my face… and I might've gotten a concussion."

"Hold on, what? Concussion?" demanded the medic who had been staunching the blood flowing out of Michelle.

"Uh- yeah. I got hit, and I was knocked out for awhile…"

"Oh, Jesus," the medic muttered, seeing the angry swell at the back of Michelle's head.

"Oh my god, Michelle…"

"I'll be fine. I'm going to interrogate Linden on the way back to CTU," stated Michelle decisively, determined that Tony continue to treat the way he would any other agent. "So, uh…" Michelle stepped away from the medic, who had gotten her face and arm temporarily bandaged, "How hard can I push him?"

"As hard as you need to."

* * *

"_What_ is your primary objective?"" is your primary objective?" 

Linden was silent, restrained in the dark depths of the moving CTU vehicle. The roles were reversed, now. This woman he had had at knifepoint not ten minutes ago was soaked in blood, and she looked chillingly pale, but now she was the one with a gun at his head.

"I'm going to ask you one more time." Michelle's voice had gone dangerously soft. "What is your primary objective?"

He simply glared at her. Michelle sighed as if disappointed, and then spoke again, this time in a disconcertingly cheerful tone. "I'm a woman. I don't have kids, but I still have those maternal instincts… so I don't especially like physical interrogation. But when I'm… _upset_, sometimes I do things I wouldn't ordinarily do. You've upset me today, Linden."

He stared at her, puzzled first, then bemused, and then… not, as she drew from her waistband a knife. His knife. It was still bloody.

"Are you ready to talk?" she asked, her voice returning to the low, unnervingly calm tone. When he remained silent, she let out a short, contemptuous breath. "Burns!" she barked, and as she reached for his fingers, another agent grabbed him, pulling him back.

As she forced the blade through his pinky, she asked again, this time her voice strained with effort of slicing through his finger. "What is your primary objective?"

"Stop!" he screamed, and then choked out "Fires! We were going to… start… fires."

Michelle withdrew the knife from his finger, barely hanging to his hand, and held it instead at Linden's throat. "You're lying to me. You only have ten fingers, so I'm not sure how many lies you can tell me before I have to get a little more… aggressive in my interrogation."

Linden was visibly shaking by then, his breath coming in short spurts, while Michelle's remained cool and collected. "Now. What… is your primary… objective?"

"P- parks."

Michelle slid the knife back to his hand, this time holding it poised above his second finger. "And?" When he hesitated, she, unruffled, pushed the tip of the knife in.

"Bombs! We're- we've planted bombs in them," he gasped, struggling.

Without changing her expression, Michelle probed further. "What kind of explosives?" At his response, Michelle, satisfied that his information lined up with the background she'd found the night before, turned away. He was telling the truth.

Michelle whipped out her phone.

"Almeida."

"Tony it's me. Parks. The targets are parks. I don't know yet how many or which ones; get Chloe working on high probability targets."

"On it."

"I'll get back to you." Michelle clicked her phone shut and returned to her interrogation.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: _Thank you so much to everyone for your reviews. I appreciate knowing that you liked my Michelle and thought she was in-character. I absolutely adore her, and for that reason I'm always nervous about writing her. Anway, I hope that subsequent chapters live up to the first few. This is starting to get where it gets less action-y and more romance-y. I'd love feedback._

* * *

Michelle was aware of every set of eyes on the floor following her as she entered CTU, feeling weaker and dizzier than she'd have preferred to admit. Held steady by a medic whom she had tried unsuccessfully to shake off before going in, with her hair soaked in blood and dried blood still all over her arm, she knew was a rough sight to see.

Tony, who had been leaning over a computer across the room, looked up and spotted her. He felt his heart catch in his throat. Blood, there was so much blood. He'd known she was in bad shape, but seeing her was different. He had to go to her.

Michelle finally succeeded in shedding the medic and approached Chloe, looking at the screen over her shoulder. "What have we got on this?"

"We've identified all five targets. Bomb squads are en route and-"

"Michelle! Sweetheart… Oh my god." Tony had made his way across the floor and reached for her, sliding his hand behind her back.

"We'll pick this up in a minute, Chloe." Michelle turned towards Tony, the man she'd been so afraid she was never going to see again. She struggled to keep the tears from flowing, knowing that if she started crying she wouldn't be able to stop. Gulping air to keep her composure, Michelle let her bleeding face drop into Tony's strong shoulder.

Tony drew Michelle's almost imperceptibly trembling body towards his own, never wanting to let her go. Into his shoulder, he heard her whimper, "Tony," and he melted.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. You're going to be okay," he soothed, reassuring himself more than Michelle. His Michelle. God, he needed her so much. He was startled to feel her suddenly tense and pull away.

"We can't do this now, Tony," she breathed, "Later."

"You need medical, baby." Tony cradled Michelle's face in his hands, terrified by how deathly white it was where it wasn't smeared with blood.

"I know that. But right now, we have a bomb threat to stop within the next two hours and a suspect to interrogate. I think he's holding something back- I think there's something else going on besides the bombs. I need to be the one to interrogate Linden- I've already started with him and I have an idea of how to deal with him. I'll go down to the clinic while you prep for interrogation. Okay?"

"No, not okay! Are you out of your mind, Michelle? You're in no condition to-"

Michelle caught the hands that were raised in anger and drew them around her waist, silencing him. "Tony. You need me to do this interrogation and you know it."

"She's right, Tony," Jack put in as he crossed the floor. It was that simple: yes, Michelle was hurt, badly, but she was still functioning fine. They needed her and she knew it, and Tony could not get in the way of that.

"Tony. Let me do my job."

"Fine."

* * *

"You're really not in any condition to be doing anything right now." The doctor was getting completely fed up. Insisting that she had to finish something, Michelle had refused to let them deal with the mess on their arm, and was steadfastly refusing to stop work

"Well, I am." Michelle repeated, as she twisted an elastic around her hair, the blood rinsed out now that seventeen stitches neatly closed the deep gash along her hairline. Still, she had trouble getting the elastic secure, because it hurt too much to move her right arm high enough to pull back her hair. Ignoring the pain, Michelle continued.

"I have an interrogation to run and I am going to run it. When this is over, you can do whatever you need to, but not before. That's all there is to discuss."

"Ms. Dessler," the doctor conceded as she bandaged the wounded arm, cleaned and, for the moment, no longer bleeding, "If anything goes wrong, you get down here right away. And I want you back here the second you're done with whatever you have to do."

"Thank you, Doctor." Michelle winced in pain at the sudden movement of swinging herself off the bed, but then hastily exited the clinic. As she left, she was already reviewing the file Kim had brought down to her.

* * *

Michelle sauntered into the interrogation room, her face and manner betraying none of the wrenching pain tomreting her body. Linden stared up at her.

"So," Michelle slid to a sitting position on the table in front of him. "Let's get started."

* * *

Michelle had been right. Something else _was_ going on- a shooting at one of the parks. Everything she'd gotten from Linden in her interrogation matched up with the intel they already had; he was telling the truth.

She stumbled out of the interrogation room, having exhausted all information she could get out of Linden pertaining to that day. Now that all of the bombs had been stopped, Jack and Chase and their teams were headed to the site of the planned shooting.

And though she was beyond exhausted and her whole body was throbbing in pain, Michelle was still needed to help run tactical. Once she made it to her workstation, moving slower than usual, she collapsed into her chair and sighed heavily.

It hurt. It hurt badly. Everything hurt. Her head, her face, most of all her arm. And while she wasn't going to admit it, she'd never really recovered from the lightheadedness from when she'd first been hit on the head. But as long as the pain wasn't infringing on her effectiveness to the operation, she felt that she had to keep working.

As Michelle typed an access code into her keyboard, she was startled to see a drop of blood hit a key. Turning her head in confusion, Michelle saw the rivulet of red liquid trickling down from the bandage on her arm.

She should go get the arm rewrapped; Michelle knew she couldn't loose that much more blood before it started affecting her work. With an exasperated sigh, she got up to head down to the clinic. Passing Chloe, Michelle murmured, "I need to go downstairs and get this bleeding stopped. I'll be back in a couple minutes."

"Yeah, whatever. I'll cover for you. I mean, the way you are right now I don't even think-"

"Chloe," Michelle interrupted shortly. Then she softened her tone as she realized how harsh she sounded. Chloe tried, God knew, and it wasn't her fault if she could never manage to convey anything other than critical bluntness. "Look, I appreciate your concern, but I need to do my job right now."

"Fine," Chloe huffed, and turned back towards Michelle's computer screen as the sound of Michelle's heels clicked off towards the clinic.

A few minutes later, Tony approached her, sounding urgent. "Where's Michelle?"

"She went down to the clinic," Chloe answered, clearly surprised Michelle hadn't told him.

"Why? What's wrong?" demanded Tony, his heart beating faster.

"Gosh, I don't know Tony. Gunshot wound, stab wounds, concussion. Take your pick." Chloe rolled her eyes as Tony sighed and went towards the clinic.

* * *

As Tony pulled open the door to the clinic, he heard Michelle insisting, "Just stop the bleeding and deal with it later; I have to get back to work. I'm fine."

"You're not fine!" Tony shouted. And then his voice grew gentler as he reached Michelle. "We've got it under control upstairs. We're handling tactical. Please baby, just let them do what they need to do. Please, sweetheart."

Michelle sighed. "Fine. But if you need anything upstairs, let me know. Actually, from down here, I could probably-"

"Michelle." Tony looked at her pointedly, and she laughed a little. She was being, probably, a little too stubborn. Maybe she should work on that.

"All right! Fine. You win."

"I don't _win, _sweetheart. You're the one who's hurt." Tony laid his hand over hers tenderly, protectively.

"Tony, go upstairs. If I'm not there, you need to be. Go upstairs... and Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You let me know what's going on, okay?"

"Of course, baby."

* * *

"Your arm's going to be fine, Ms Dessler. I'm going to want you back in here in a couple of days, and in the meantime, you'll need to-"

"Look, can we do this in a couple of hours?" Michelle interjected, "There's a lot that still needs to be dealt with today." Her arm taken care of, Michelle was impatient to be back on the floor. If she was working, she could fend of the haunting thoughts of what had happened in the field.

And she felt incompetent for having gotten injured as badly as she had. Right then, Michelle needed to feel needed; to know that she was doing something; to be capable and efficient. Simply, she needed to work.

"I'll be back down with my husband once this situation has been tied up. It's going to be a little bit." Without another word, Michelle slid down, and made for the doorway, slowing her usually brisk pace in an effort to counteract the dizziness that had still barely ebbed. Her head hurt like hell.

Tony, who was running point, looked over to see Michelle return to the floor and talk to Chloe, apparently being briefed on their current situation. He was about to go over and order her back down to the clinic, but then he stopped himself. He'd played the protective role enough today; he needed to start treating Michelle like any other agent; needed to respect her to do her job. Although that didn't mean he had to like it.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. I've had a lot going on the past week or so, and then when I was finally ready to upload, I realized I just didn't have it where I wanted for publication; extensive tweaking ensued. The next chapter will be much sooner, I promise. Anyway! Once again, I was truly glad to hear that you are enjoying my characters, and especially my Michelle. I had _so _much fun writing Action!Michelle. But now I'm actually getting into character development, so... we'll see how it goes. From this chapter onward, it's all about the characters. Hope you enjoy._

* * *

"When I woke up, he was… he was on top of me. About to… he was about to rape me." Michelle bit her lip to stop the tears. Debriefings from the field were always emotionally difficult. Saying in cold, stark words what had happened to you, it always sounded ten times more dangerous and more frightening than when it actually happened.

It was like reliving all the fear, only worse. When she had been there, Michelle hadn't been able to think about what was happening. But telling Jack everything that had happened made it all seem too real. Too scary. Michelle was jerked from her thoughts by Jack's voice.

"Did he?" he asked gently.

"Did he what?" Michelle said, confused.

"Rape you."

"Oh- no. No." Jack's tense faced relaxed at Michelle's answer, and she continued with the trace of a smile. "Classic knee to the groin always works…"

"Yeah, well. They weren't kidding about Linden not having the best field guys," Jack chuckled, thankful that Michelle had lightened the mood. If there was one thing he hated as much as killing innocent people, it was rape.

* * *

"Tony, I'm _fine_," Michelle insisted as she attempted to get up from her workstation. Paperwork that couldn't wait until the next day—which was to say, more or less all of it—, debriefings, and a quick visit to the clinic had all been finished and their exhausted shift was finally being released. "I _am_," she persisted, Tony's exasperated expression impossible to ignore.

"No, you're not. Sweetheart… just work with me here, okay?" At this, Michelle sighed and relented, lacking the physical strength to argue anymore, and she allowed Tony to hold her securely with one arm as he led her out of CTU. She gripped his other arm; whether she wanted to admit it or not, she really didn't feel steady enough to walk by herself at that point.

With Michelle held close against Tony, self-consciously clinging to him for lack of any other way to overcome her dizziness enough to walk, curious eyes followed the much-romanticized golden couple of CTU as they made their way across the floor. The subject of endless office gossip, Michelle and Tony very seldom displayed any kind of affection in the office

Though the electricity between them was always palpable even to the most socially oblivious of the staff, the only time anyone ever saw them openly tender with each other was right after one of them got back from a field mission. Even then, they rarely let themselves get physical beyond a quick hug unless whoever had been in the field had been injured, so to see Michelle and Tony clinging together twice within a few hours was a novelty and fuel for the gossipers of the agency.

The prying curiosity of her office was not lost on Michelle, but she simply didn't see any other option, and let herself rely on Tony for stability. It seemed to take her aching, throbbing body an eternity to get all the way out to the car, but get there she did.

"Hey- hey, you gonna be okay?" Tony asked gently as he let go of Michelle to open the car door. She was visibly shaking and her face had gone white.

"I'm fine," she snapped, her words clipped.

"Like hell you are," Tony muttered as he scooped up Michelle in his arms and slid her into the passenger seat.

Too tired to protest, Michelle let him do so. Her eyes followed Tony as he walked around and climbed in beside her. He slid his hand reassuringly over hers as he started the ignition

* * *

Pulling up in front of their house, Tony gazed with a mixture of affection and concern at his sleeping wife. She remained asleep as he turned off the engine and opened his door. Seeing her tired body finally resting, Tony hadn't the heart to wake her. Hoping she'd stay asleep, he gathered Michelle up in his arms to carry her inside.

As he reached the front door, he felt Michelle shift against his chest and saw her eyes flutter open. "Tony?" she asked, disoriented.

"Hey, sweetheart… we're home," murmured Tony, pushing the door open and entering the house.

"Tony…" she murmured, still drowsy. Then, realizing that she was being carried like a child, Michelle was indignant. "Put me _down_!"

"Michelle, you're-"

"_Now,"_ she hissed, struggling against him. Finally, at her insistence, Tony relented and eased his wife to the floor. She pushed her unruly curls out of her face and kicked her high heels off of her aching feet with a sigh. Tiredly, Michelle made her way to the living room and collapsed onto the couch. "Oh my god… I am so goddamned tired," she whimpered.

"Sweetheart… does it hurt?" Tony asked, concerned, as he laid a hand across Michelle's face.

"Not too bad," she lied, "I just… I need to lie down for a little bit." Michelle, pulling away from Tony's hand, shifted her gaze away from him, glancing everywhere but into his eyes.

"Michelle… my god, Michelle…" Tony faltered, alarmed at the amount of pain that had become increasingly evident after they'd left CTU. Never before had he seen her hurt this badly. Though she did field work fairly regularly, this was the first time since they'd been together that Michelle had really gotten injured because of CTU. And Tony couldn't stand it.

...But she could. "I'm fine," she insisted again, but as she slid over on the couch, a dart of pain shot through her arm, rendering her powerless to stifle the soft cry of pain. She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled sharply.

"Goddamnitt, Michelle..." Tony sounded frightened more than angry, but as he continued, his voice started to grow jagged and its volume rose, "This is why I don't want you in the field! Because this happens! I don't want you hurt-"

"Damnit, Tony; it's not your choice!" Michelle snapped as she sat up quickly, stubbornly ignoring the spinning of her head at the sudden motion.

"You're my wife!"

"That doesn't mean you _own_ me! I'm my own person, and I can make my own goddamned decisions!" shouted Michelle, her voice mounting, as she stood up from the sofa to look Tony in the eye.

"And _that_ doesn't mean you get to put your life at risk-"

"_You do the same goddamned thing!_ Ever think of that, Tony? That you scare the hell out of me every time _you_ go out in the field?" Tears were staining Michelle's face by then, flowing freely from her eyes.

"That's my job-"

"_It's my job, too!_ You tend to forget that, Tony, but it's my job! I signed on because I _wanted_ to do it. Did that thought ever occur to you? That I want to do this?"

"You can do your job from CTU-"

"But I'm in field ops! That's part of my job, too. And here's another thought that may not have occurred to you, you goddamned bastard," she spat scathingly, "I like it in the field! I love it just as much as you do! I love the adrenaline, the thrill, and you know what? I even love the fear. It's a part of who I am, and it's a part of who you are, too, Tony." Michelle paused only briefly to breathe before continuing her tirade. "And yes, I might get hurt. People get hurt. That happens. But it's my job, and _I fucking enjoy it!_"

Tony's voice grew dangerously soft. "Michelle, you know what, fine. If you want to get yourself killed, fine."

"Tony, you do it too! You're in the field more than I am!" By that point Michelle was near hysterics, outraged at Tony for acting as if he never put himself in danger when in fact he risked his life more often than she did.

"But I can take care of myself-"

"_And I can't?_" Michelle had reached a new level of murderous rage at this final slight." You think I can't take care of myself? That's what you think? You think I'm some helpless woman? Goddamnit, Tony! What the hell do I have to do to prove to you that I'm not? I can go into a building with four armed terrorists, by myself, and still take them all down even after I get shot, stabbed, come within about thirty seconds of being raped-"

"You _what?_" Tony asked in disbelief. Michelle froze. This wasn't exactly the way she'd planned to bring up this particular issue. Tony, though, was purely horrified. Someone had actually tried to rape his wife? Rape her? And she hadn't even _told _him? "You- you _what?_" he demanded again.

"When I was knocked out… but he didn't, Tony. I took him out before he did. Because I can do that! I can take care of my own goddamned self! I can get shot, tortured, almost raped, and I can still take out three terrorists when they're armed and I'm restrained. I can do all of that, and you _still_ don't believe I can take care of myself? What the _hell_, Tony!"

"Michelle, that's not what I-"

"It is! It is! You know what, Tony? Screw this. Screw you. Fuck you! I'm not putting up with- you know what? That's it!" Michelle's voice had reached a high-pitched scream that still didn't match with the anger and frustration consuming her at that moment. And she was more furious than she'd ever been in her life.

She stormed out of the living room, but she hadn't gotten farther than the hallway when the dizziness that had persistently refused to leave her since she'd been hit became overpowering. She stumbled forward, resisting the urge to heed the alarms her body was sending her.

Tony, stunned, had been frozen while watching Michelle leave angrily, but he moved towards her the second he saw her balance start to falter. He had almost reached her when she started to fall.

Shaken, Tony knelt beside his wife and gathered her into his arms. "Michelle?" he pleaded, "Michelle, talk to me, sweetheart." She remained unresponsive, and he started to panic, but then common sense kicked in. Considering what Michelle had gone through that day, it was a downright miracle she'd made it as far as she had. He knew she'd be fine.

His wife held close against him, Tony started towards the bedroom. He flicked on the lights to illuminate the room, and then laid Michelle onto the bed, drawing the comforter over her still form. As he gazed at the deceptively demure face of his unbelievably strong wife, Tony was filled with remorse and guilt.

Had he really thought of Michelle as a helpless woman? He damn well hoped not, because she'd proved time and again that as an agent, she was as good as they came. Better than he was, at some things. So why was Tony so protective of her? As he stripped off Michelle's formal work clothes and slid on her favorite flannel pants and tank top, Tony began to consider.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**_ Wow, thank you for all the reviews for Chapter 5! Sorry this chapter took a long time, too. It should have been sooner, but I had a really hard time with this. So please tell me what you think, good or bad. I value input._

* * *

Tony watched his wife sleep, her hair wild and haphazard and her face turned into him. Michelle's rhythmic breathing caused her body to lift and fall just the slightest bit, in a motion Tony found too perfect for words. As he sat, Michelle held close against him, Tony wracked his brain for an explanation for why he'd acted the way he did, and could come up with only one: love.

What other reason could there be for his irrational protectiveness over Michelle? He knew that she could take care of herself; knew that she was fantastically good at getting herself and the country out of any and all impossible situations. And yet—and yet, he continued to attempt, albeit largely unsuccessfully, to shelter her from danger.

Persistent in his mind and heart was the need to protect her, whether she needed the protection or not. Maybe she didn't. Maybe he should just let her go. But… But how could he do that? How could he leave his wife to the dangers of not only the world, but the constant perils of being a field agent for the _Counter Terrorist Unit_? The agency with the highest casualty rate of any agency in the United States government?

And then the answer came to him, again: love. This was what Michelle wanted. It was what Michelle _needed_, to be happy. She needed to know she was really, truly making a difference in the world. And she loved the adrenaline rushes… loved the thrill of the field as much as he did.

He did love it, he knew. The realization swept over him as he kicked off his clothes, stripping down to just his boxers. He'd never really thought about it before, never really looked that closely into himself. But it was true- he loved it in the field. Yes, he was mainly an office worker, and for the sake of the marriage, both he and Michelle needed the stability of that. But nonetheless, there was an adrenaline rush that made him feel alive. Danger… living in danger was… enjoyable. Enjoyable. He liked it.

Did that make him masochistic or- or something? No, he decided, it didn't. It was just that there had to be some people who would spend their lives fending off the shadows that threatened to overtake the casual, carefree inhabitants of the rest of the world. And he wanted to be one of those people; wanted to live his life on the edge of danger.

He lived in a world far removed from that of most people. And Michelle…Michelle was part of that separate world, the world that so few people understood. He would never want to have to put the wall of disconnection between himself and Michelle. All too often, he had seen that wall that undermine the trust and understanding that should have been able to build the inevitably failed relationships of so many of his coworkers.

But Michelle and Tony were the exception. They lived in the same world, immersed in it, almost to the point that they forgot what the civilian life was like. And that, Tony realized as he slipped under the covers beside Michelle, was why they were able to maintain their relationship: because they understood each other. Not only because they understood one another as people, but because they understood the experiences, so foreign to most people, that they went through as an ordinary part of work.

Coming within inches and seconds of being killed more times than they were strictly comfortable with was something to which they had become used. What happened during field work was intense- kidnappings, torturings, killings. What would be considered unbelievably traumatic for the average person, and situations that would make an LAPD officer quiver in his pretentious boots, were the kind of thing that Michelle and Tony, as CTU field agents, went through every few months.

What was more emotionally difficult than the personal dangers, however, were the moral gray areas of all the things that both of them had done and were bound to do again. He knew that Michelle's personal body count was pushing two digits, and that his own was even higher. Both of them had employed physical interrogation in time-sensitive situations- which was really just a pretty way of saying that they had tortured people.

To love and be loved by a person who had been through it all, who had done it all, and who had felt the same fear and guilt was invaluable to Michelle and Tony. Their relationship was a mutual support system. In addition to the more traditional love that they shared, they were brought together by the understanding of the difficulties that so often ruled their lives.

Working together as high-ranking federal agents had a lot of downsides, downsides they dealt with for the sake of a consuming love neither one of them would or could ever give up. But its advantage- the advantage of firsthand empathy- was unbelievably important. They both needed it to cope, and needed to be able to help the other cope.

For this, Tony lay in bed, cuddling Michelle's warm body against his own, waiting for her to wake. When she did, they would talk through the day. After every time one of them had been on a field mission- or, rarely, both at once- Michelle and Tony ended up snuggled together, in their warm, soft bed to go through what had happened to them and what they had done.

They'd been doing this as long as they'd been involved. Tony remembered clearly their first "emotional debrief," that had been after Michelle had gotten back from a mission, when they'd been together for about three months.

* * *

_To begin with, Michelle had had a killer headache. It had made her irritable and snappish, as well as worn her out and leaving her feeling vulnerable, which she hated. _

_She'd returned to CTU from the field exhausted and spattered with the blood of one of the men she'd taken down. By the time her shift was finally over, she was an emotional and physical mess. _

_It didn't take Tony very long to convince Michelle to let him take her home. She was fatigued and miserable and the last thing she'd wanted was to be alone. The relationship hadn't gotten all that serious yet, but already she felt secure and comforted around Tony, and that was what she felt she needed right then. _

_She'd stumbled into her apartment, Tony close behind her. Tossing her keys and shoes somewhere, anywhere, she'd flung herself onto the couch and burst into tears: intense, hysterical tears. _

_As a rule, Michelle didn't like people to see her cry. On the rare occasions when the tears did flow, she would do everything she could to suppress them; to keep her composure. _

_But on that day, she had simply sobbed. Crying so hard she could barely breathe, Michelle had let Tony lift her up, let him carry her to bed, let him hold her and soothe her. _

_And when she'd finally cried all her tears, she had disappeared into the bathroom for almost an hour and emerged neatly groomed and entirely collected. And then she'd gotten into bed, and coaxed Tony in beside her. _

_"Tell me what happened," he'd said. And she had. She'd told him everything that had happened, told him that she'd been scared, told him how guilty she felt for the horrible things she had done. _

_And he'd understood. He'd done it all, too. They talked about it for hours that night- talked about the complicated forced out by field work. And then they had fallen asleep clinging close to one another. It was ironic, in retrospect, that in a relationship so driven by sexual attraction, the first night spent together was completely platonic. _

_During that night, spent snuggled together, the same sexual tension that had charged the air between them as long as they'd known each other was conspicuously absent. In its place was an overwhelmingly striking emotional connection. _

_Afterwards, they both knew they had something special. They slept together with increasing frequency in the months that followed, although—to no one's surprise more than their own— they wouldn't have sex until the night of their engagement over a year later. _

_That night was the turning point in their relationship, for it was then that, it became less about the physical attraction and mutual respect that had initiated things between them, and had become more about the deeper, weightier emotional bond. _

_W hen Michelle would, in later years, look back on that period of her life, she would view those late-night discussions full of empathy and love with a profound reverence. And she would remember the night that started the beautiful thing between herself and Tony with wistful nostalgia and a deep gratefulness for the happiness it would bring her._

_Tony's feeling about the whole thing. He never analyzed situations that thoroughly. But Tony, as he held his hurting Michelle, could not help but look back on that night. And he found himself deeply immersed in the thought of just how much it meant._

* * *

Tony was jolted from his reverie when he felt Michelle shift in his arms. He could only hope she'd subdued her earlier anger- anger which, if he was being honest with himself- she was entirely justified in directing at him. He could only hope she wouldn't kick him out of the bed as soon as she woke up.

So was surprised when Michelle, as she woke, snuggled closer to him and, sounding a little frightened, whimpered, "Tony?"

"I'm here, sweetheart," he murmured, pulling a hand to the back of his head and stroking her curls.

"Tony, what-- what happened?"

"You passed out. Because you were so worked up at me because I was being a bastard to you."

Tony was shocked to see tears quivering in Michelle's eyes as she pulled away. "Tony-- I-- I can't-- I don't-- I…." she paused and tried to pull herself together. "I just- don't- don't want to be angry. I don't want to be angry at you. I'm-- I'm tired. I feel like absolute hell and I don't want…"

"Hey- hey. Hey, sweetheart. C'mere. It's okay, I'm not mad. I'm sorry, Michelle. I'm sorry. Michelle… hey, it's okay. You'll be okay." As the tears started to spill out of her eyes and flow down her cheeks, Tony drew her towards him. Tears stopping, Michelle went limp and submitted to the warmth of Tony's comforting arms.

"Tony," she whimpered again, pressing her face into his shoulder. She was disoriented, still. Trying to piece together all the angry words was difficult; she couldn't concentrate. Couldn't figure out just exactly what she'd been shouting at him about.

"Sweetheart. Sweetheart, I'm sorry," he murmured, kissing her and running his hand up and down her back.

"For- for what? What are you sorry for? What were we so mad about? I don't even remember. God… I hate this…I'm so… out of it… I just, I…"

"I was mad because you got hurt and you were mad because I was being overprotective, which I had no right to do. And because I was being condescending because I love you, which wasn't fair because I'm a bastard." He paused to think, then added, "You didn't need that."

_Oh._ _Oh, right._ The altercation came rushing back to her, and Michelle visibly winced as the memory flooded her mind. _Damnit_. She didn't want to have to deal with this, not when she felt as wretched as she did just then. Just get it over with.

"I did get hurt, though."

Tony was taken aback. In the first, it was unlike Michelle to admit that she was hurt, under any circumstances, ever. She hated that. But besides that, he wasn't expecting his fiery, stubborn Michelle to be so… yielding.

"Yeah." There was a silence then that was not uncomfortable but nor was it relaxed. They were both distractedly in thought, contemplating what to say next. Michelle spoke first.

"I guess you had a point about getting hurt in the field. And Tony, I want you to understand something. I love that you think you have to protect me. It's adorable." She paused and smiled the shy, faintly mischievous smile that made him putty in her hands. And then the flicker of the smile was gone and her voice was serious again. "But I need for you to know that I don't need you to. Can't you see that, Tony?"

He sighed and sat up. He wanted to think before he answered. Drawing the blanket up over him, he leaned against the headboard and pulled Michelle into his lap so that her head and neck were nestled against his chest and the rest of her body lay across him. She didn't protest; in fact, she snuggled into him as she waited for him to speak.

"I do see it. It would be impossible not to see it with you." Michelle half smiled, but she wasn't going to be coaxed into anything with compliments. "I have so much respect for what you do, Michelle. I can see exactly why you think I don't respect your work, but I do. You're one of the best agents CTU has ever had."

Michelle was going to cut in and tell him that he couldn't placate her with flattery, but she stopped herself when she realized that that wasn't what he was doing. He was explaining what he felt, and it wasn't contrived. It sounded as though it was, but it wasn't. She knew.

"But I _want_ to protect you. I know you don't need it but I want to."

"I know that. I guess I did know that; I just--I was so frustrated with-- I just felt like-- like nothing I did was ever _good_ enough for you to take me seriously."

"Sweetheart, of course I take you seriously. That's what I'm trying to say. I'm trying to tell you that I do take you seriously but I just… want you to be safe. When your comm went down and we didn't know if you were dead or alive…"

"Oh, Tony. I- I'm sorry. I- when I was in there, I-" Michelle's voice stopped. And she drew in her breath shakily.

"So… are we going to do this now?"

She sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. I don't want to talk about everything else right now. I'm just-- too tired-- I want totalk about what happened today first. It was bad this time, Tony."

"Yeah, I know."

"I know, it just-- I-- I mean it was worse than… a lot worse than it usually is," sighed Michelle as she drew herself up so that she was sitting up of her own accord but with her head still resting on Tony's chest.

"Okay. So you ready to tell me about it?" he asked tenderly, turning so he had an arm around Michelle's tense form.

"I'm ready."

"Okay, sweetheart."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** _Regarding the fluff, or lack thereof... it certainly wasn't my intent when I wrote the summary that said "action, character exploration, and fluff," I apparently meant "in that order." It'll get flufffier as the chapters progress but honestly, it's never going to get super-fluffy. Anyway, I _am _writing the conversation that follows-- here it is! Please review._

* * *

Tony secured both arms around Michelle's waist, holding her close to him. She leaned into him, letting the soft warmth of his body totally wrap around hers. It felt nice; it always did. For a woman who never felt totally safe—who was always looking over her shoulder—the feeling of utter security was something she wouldn't give up for the world. Michelle turned her head against his neck, letting her lips brush over his skin before she settled against Tony. 

"I entered the basement- got the first guy against the wall and scared him into being quiet. I disarmed him, got him on the ground. Cuffed him. Kept my gun on him and started a tactically covert field interrogation. He didn't cooperate, so I… I knocked him out and secured him. Then I moved upstairs."

Michelle's voice was patient and collected; this part of the mission had obviously left her totally unfazed. The truth was that agents of their rank did that kind of thing so routinely that it was almost mindless, and Michelle was certainly no exception. If she still got upset over something that basic, she wouldn't be much of an agent.

"Okay," he whispered against her neck, reassuringly. "So then you started to go upstairs…"

"I got into the first upstairs room and that- that was when my comm went dead. I was scared, Tony. I was so scared." Her voice shook, and Tony instinctively pulled her tighter.

"I know you were, baby."

"I didn't—I didn't know if I was going to make it out alive… I mean, you never really know if you're going to make it out alive, but this time, it just—I knew there were three of them and only one of me, and I had no idea where the hell they were and I was so scared…"

"Shh… hey. Hey, sweetheart," Tony soothed, sliding an arm under her legs and cradling her against him like a baby. She shifted her body so that she was cuddled on top of him, her face buried in his shoulder and her body against his. As he rubbed her back, her breath calmed and grew regular. "I know it's scary, sweetheart. I know. I was so scared for you… it's always gonna be that way, Michelle. You never stop being scared when you're out there- you _can't_ stop being scared out there."

"I know you can't," she sighed, pulling away, upright, "But you also… you can't let yourself beafraid. You have to—you have to keep making yourself believe there's a way out of it, or the fear's gonna win and you aren't gonna make it out."

"Exactly," he murmured, "So then…"

"He... he had his gun raised when I went in, but I took him down. And I had him on his knees, and that's when I saw the window."

"What window?"

"The open window. And I knew—I knew it couldn't stay open."

"Yeah."

"So I kept my gun on him when I went over to close it. And that was when the bullet came through the grate. And hit me in the arm and I dropped my gun. I dropped my gun! I can't believe I dropped my gun…"

"Sweetheart, you'd been _shot._"

"But I dropped my gun, and I let down my guard, and I got disoriented and in those couple of seconds, and that was when I got taken down. Someone had come in while I was distracted… damnit!" Michelle's voice was mounting with the tears swelling in her throat, as she grew more and more frustrated with herself. "If it hadn't been for that shot… that goddamned shot…"

As she grew nearer hysteria with every syllable, Tony shifted so that he was lying all the way down, on his side, and he drew Michelle with him. In response, she calmed and her breathing again began to regulate. While she tucked her body into his, he ran a hand through her hair and used the other to cup her face.

"Sweetheart. Sweetheart, you had no way of knowing where anyone was, and you did exactly what you should have. You did good, sweetheart."

She shuddered as she let out a long breath, turning away fromhim. "I just… I'm… frustrated… if it hadn't been for that, it wouldn't have— none of the rest of… oh god, I don't even know what I'm driving at. I don't know. I just… I wish it hadn't happened."

"I know."

"I know." She nestled herself closer into his arms; she was cold. Noticing her shivering, Tony wrapped the blanket tighter around her.

"You cold?"

"No…"

"Sweetheart."

"I'm cold."

"Michelle…" Tony was touched beyond words at the look of utter vulnerability and trust on the face of this woman who spent— out of necessity— most of her life withholding both. That she not only trusted him with every ounce of her being, but that she actually let him see her come undone still floored him.

* * *

Michelle despised weakness, but in no one did she despise it more than in herself. It wasn't only that she knew she couldn't afford to be— and she couldn't— it was that she needed to know that she was strong. She needed to know that she was being an asset to herself and to society at large; she needed to know that to function.

And most of the time, that was all she needed. She could deal with the unbelievable stress from the constant crises of national security. She could hold herself together when her husband's life was at risk, and when her own life was at risk. She could hold herself together when her coworkers died; something that happened all together too often. All of this, she could deal with stoically— though that didn't mean she wanted to. That didn't mean it was healthy to. It just meant that she could do it when she had to.

But there were times when she didn't, when she could come home and collapse into Tony's arms. It could be after a particularly stressful day, or after someone died, or after Tony scared her to death out in the field, or after she got scared to death out in the field, or even just when she had one of her headaches that made a hard day almost unbearable. It could be anything, big or little, and she could let herself fall apart.

Around Tony, it felt okay. Around Tony, she felt safe to cry and admit that she was scared, or tired, or hurt. He understood, and he didn't think any less of her for it. In fact, he loved her even more. He always loved her more.

And so, with Tony's comforting, encouraging presence, Michelle had learned to admit that she wasn't always fine. While she was far from admitting it all or even most of the time, she had reached the point where she knew she could, and that when she truly needed to, she did.

* * *

Tony reappeared in the bedroom a few moments later with a down throw from the couch. He draped it over her, on top of the bed blanket, as he slid back in beside her, gathering her into his arms.

"Better?"

"Yeah," she smiled, always moved by Tony's sweet gestures.

"So…" Tony snuggled close against Michelle, "Tell me what happened after you got shot," he encouraged gently.

"I got knocked out. Someone… when I lost focus from the shot… someone came in and hit me on the back of the head. And I was out for awhile.' Michelle stopped for a moment, and Tony's hand crept up her back. He lightly traced a finger over the mark on her head under the mass of curls, and he kissed her neck.

Warmed by that simple act, Michelle continued, albeit hesitantly. "I woke up with one of the men on top of me."

Tony felt his heart beat faster and he his self-control was hard-pressed to restrain him from saying something that would make Michelle feel worse.

"He… Tony, he had his hands… one was on my pants and the other one was down my top… he was going to rape me. Tony. He was so close to raping me." Tears spilled out of her eyes and her voice choked, but she continued. "Oh god, Tony. I was so… so scared. But mostly, I was angry… he had no right to… oh my god, I was scared."

She pressed her face against his shoulder and let the tears flow freely, clinging tightly to him as if she were drowning and he was the last floating piece of driftwood. Accepting the signal that it was okay, even welcome, for him to be protective, Tony held his wife closer and kissed her.

"But you took him down, sweetheart. You know that, baby? You're better than he is. Stronger than he is. He couldn't even compete with you."

Michelle lifted her head and smiled a watery smile.

"Yeah…I think he... the only reason a serious terrorist would try to rape a federal agent is if he felt like he had something to prove. If he needed control. And I didn't let him have it."

"Exactly." Tony gave a half grin and wiped the tears from Michelle's face. "He didn't want you, he wanted the power and you didn't give it to him. You got control over him."

"Yeah."

"Tell me what happened after that."

"I got him off of me. He wasn't that strong and he didn't restrain me because he thought I was unconscious… so I got him off of me. But that was… I'd just gotten him off, and then Linden was in." Michelle stopped again and Tony braced himself for what would undoubtedly be the hardest part for him to hear.

"He was cutting me, stabbing me. Just gashing open the bullet wound, trying….to get me to talk. It hurt… so bad… it hurt…"

"I know, sweetie. I know what that's like. You're hurting so much and you feel like you'd do anything to make it stop but you don't, and you feel stupid and you hurt. But if you make it out of there and they don't get any information from you, then you still win. And you did what's right."

"Well, I know it's _right,_ Tony. It just hurt like hell… it still hurts like hell… but I'll be okay. I'll be fine, okay?" She reassured herself more than him. "I'll be fine. So he had the knife at my face when I shouted for Jack."

"Jack?" Tony asked, confused.

"Jack. Because when they heard that, they all turned to look for him and that was when I got Linden off me. Knocked him out. Then… I— killed one of his men. You already knew that, but…. I hate that so much. I don't care how bad he is and if he was going to kill me, I just… I ended a life. I hate that, Tony."

"I know you do. We all do. You're not human if you don't. Keep on remembering that it's wrong, but know that it's right. You know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I mean, I certainly don't regret it or anything. I just… feel bad…."

"It's okay to."

"Yeah."

They stayed quiet and still for a few minutes, nestled in loving arms and a comfortable bed, but the minds of both were on the people that they'd killed. They lay there, silent, and remembered. It was Michelle who finally broke the silence.

"I had to torture Linden. I cut off his goddamn fingers…" she choked out, again beginning to cry for what felt like the thousandth time that night.

"And if you hadn't, we would have had a hell of a lot of body bags right now."

"Yeah. But I still… I hate… I hate doing that to another person. I feel like it's me there, in a way. Just… it… I don't know."

"I do," he sighed, "I know. You feel like you're worse than he is, and you want to hate yourself. But you can't do that, Michelle. You have to remember that it was his fingers or thousands of innocent lives."

"Yeah. I know. I know you know. I know you know I know you know…." And Michelle's tears changed to laughter as she realized just how ridiculous she sounded.

Tony laughed with her, and the tension and fear and guilt finally evaporated.

"You ready to go to sleep?" he murmured.

"Yeah…" she sighed, already reaching towards the darkness. "Tony…I love you…"

"I love you, too." He stroked her back and let his body relax as hers went limp with sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:**_ Michelle and Tony finally resolve their conflict of intersest; thusly, _A Conflict of Interest _comes to a close. I' m sad to see it end, but I'll be writing more! An extended thank-you for all the wonderful reviews-- it meant a lot to me that my work was appreciated.The ending isn't super-fluffy, but it felt fluffy to me. My standards of fluff are, apparently, "not that fluffy.";) But at any rate, I 'm not sure if this came off a little too sappy, so tell me what you think!I'd also appreciate feedback on the story as a whole, so I'd love a review whether you've given any in the past or not. Thank you all!_

* * *

Some hours later, Tony was woken by Michelle's cries of pain. "Tony, oh god Tony, move, please, oh god…" she was sobbing. That was when he realized that in sleep, they had shifted so that her arm had ended up wedged under his back. 

Horrified, he pulled away from her, and she gasped at the release of her arm.

"Oh my god... Michelle baby… sweetheart, are you okay? Oh god, I am so sorry. God, Michelle. Sweetheart, are you all right?"

"I'm— I'm okay… I'm okay," she sighed, rolling onto her side and clutching her hand over her arm. "It just— the pressure hurt… it sounded a hell of a lot worse than it felt," she added self-consciously, smiling a little.

"But it still hurt, baby. God, I can't believe I—"

"Tony," she cut in, "it was probably me moving just as much as you. Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Just stop acting like you strangled a baby or something—"

"Maybe I shouldn't sleep her tonight…"

"No!" shouted Michelle, a little too quickly. She blushed, but continued. "I don't want to be by myself, Tony. Please, I just, I need…" her voice trailed off and a single tear carved its path down her cheek, leaving more of a mark than all the torrents of tears she'd cried that day.

"Sweetheart… sweetheart, it's gonna be okay. I'm here; it's okay; you'll be okay," he murmured, sliding back towards Michelle. She nestled against him, curving her body so it matched his, and her muscles relaxed. Wrapping one arm around her small, warm body, Tony lifted a finger and wiped away the tear, tracing its path up her cheek and in that single, fluid motion he made it as if the tear had never been.

After a moment, she pulled away and sat up. "Tony, we need to talk."

"About what?"

"You know what." Michelle felt unsettled from their earlier shouting match. Glossing everything over by talking about goddamned _torture_ only lasted so long.

He sighed. "Okay; all right. We'll talk."

"You're too protective." She folded her arms— or the left one, anyway— and stared at him, waiting for an answer.

"I thought we already talked about this, Michelle."

"We talked about it; we didn't resolve it."

"Can it wait till morning?"

"No. I've got enough on my mind tonight that I don't need to be worrying if my marriage is falling apart."

"You think our marriage is falling apart?" he asked, incredulous. She almost sounded _serious. _

"It's called an 'exaggeration,' Tony." Michelle rolled her eyes. "But I am serious. I want to talk about the protectiveness thing. I really want… I want… I don't know, I just want you to say that—"

"That I trust you to be okay on your own?"

"Yeah."

"I _do_, though, sweetheart. That's what I was trying to tell you before. That I know you're gonna be fine, I just want—I want to make sure. I've come too close to loosing you…" he choked on his words, and Michelle put her arms around him and smothered his lips with a kiss.

"Oh, God, Tony. I— I just— I've come close to loosing you, too. It comes with the job, Tony, we both know that. I need you to understand that I— I want to be able to do my job. I can do it. I want you to _let _me do it." Tears of frustration brimmed in her eyes.

"Michelle…" he murmured, brushing his lips on hers and holding her close. She relaxed against his body, and buried her face into his shoulder, kissing his neck.

"All right," he sighed, "So… what do you want me to say here, Michelle?"

"I want you to _do,_ not _say. _I want you to let me do my job without trying to get in the way. That's what I want."

"Michelle, you're my wife. Do you really expect me to let you put yourself in danger all the time?"

"Yes!" He stared at her, but she plunged on. "When we're working, I'm not your wife; I'm one of your agents. I want that, Tony. We're good at leaving home at home and work at work. Now I want you to leave your wife at home and let me be your agent at work."

"I don't know if I can do that, Michelle."

"Well, I want you to try."

Tony hesitated to answer for several moments. Battling in his mind were the desire to protect Michelle under all circumstances and the desire to respect her wishes. The latter finally won out. "I can try, Michelle. I don't know how good I'm gonna be at it, but I can try."

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"Okay, baby." They settled together, breathing steady and in rhythm, but after a few minutes Michelle rolled over.

"There's something else."

Apprehensively, Tony sighed. He wasn't sure just exactly why Michelle was so bent on marriage counseling in bed at three in the morning, but she was his Michelle. Even if he wasn't always willing to talk with her when she needed it— which he was— she was hurt and he was worried enough to give her whatever she wanted. And that, right then, was his attention— something he was always willing to give her in abundance.

"What is it?"

"Tony, why do you always push me away when work is hardest?"

"You think I do?"

"Well— you— it's like you're intentionally being cold to me when we're all really stressed. And that's… that's when I need you the most. That's when I need you to call me to ask if I'm okay, like you do when I'm having a bad day or when I have a headache. And you're just— mean to me when it gets really bad and I don't know why." As she spoke, Michelle had to blink back the tears threatening to show Tony just how much this bothered her.

Neither the cause of the tears nor the tears themselves were lost on Tony, who was agonized to realize that he really had been hurting Michelle. Laying a hand against her face, Tony attempted to soothe Michelle. "I… Michelle, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just don't know how else to— to stay professional when I'm stressed and you are too and I just want you; I don't know how else—"

"Tony…"

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I just— didn't know if you were doing it on purpose, or—"

"I don't know. I just know… I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to stay the way I need to be for work if I'm not like that when I need you so much…"

"I think I understand. I just… want… just for you to not act like you're angry at me. It's okay if you keep your distance, just don't act like you're angry."

He smiled at her, a little. "I can do that."

"Okay." She paused a moment. "Thank you, Tony… I know it's the middle of the night, I just… I needed to talk and I—"

"Sweetheart, it's okay. I'm always here; you know that, don't you?"

"I know."

"Okay."

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you so much," he whispered as he folded her back into his arms and they finally went to sleep.

* * *

By the end of the next day, Michelle was beyond exhausted. Against Tony's adamant protests, she had gone into CTU that morning to work, fighting off the throbbing of her head and the pain in her arm.

She didn't want to sit home alone all day to think about how close she'd come to dying and about all the horrible things she'd done in her life. Far more, she wanted to work. Stress was infinitely preferable to misery.

But given how much her body was hurting and how little sleep she had gotten the night before, it had been a long day to say the least. But that she was used to. It felt good to return to the relative normalcy of constant tension and endless work.

Snapping her briefcase shut, Michelle looked up to see if Tony was ready to leave. As if on cue, he was just coming down the stairs, laptop in hand.

"Michelle. You ready to go?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Yeah." He paused and examined her pale, tired face closely. "Hey— you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Let's go home," he said simply, understanding that she just wanted to get out of CTU and go unravel in private. Glancing around, but not really caring who saw, Tony picked up Michelle's hand in his. She smiled mischievously and squeezed it back.

* * *

Michelle was sprawled on the couch, absently watching _American Idol_ while Tony, in the kitchen, worked on dinner. "Tony?" she called, distractedly.

He appeared in the doorway a minute later. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Do people actually care about this show?"

"Uh… Michelle?"

"What?"

"Do people care about _American Idol_?" he repeated, staring at her.

"Well, do they?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "Sure they do. The ratings are through the roof."

"No, but like… are there people who actually care about this stuff? How can you care about a stupid talent show when… do they know how many times the world has come really, really close to like… _ending_?"

Tony sighed and returned to the kitchen. Disappointed, Michelle thought he was dismissing her questions as rambling. But instead, he turned down the heat on the food he was cooking and returned, settling down beside Michelle on the couch.

"Sweetheart, can you tell me why you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Tell me why you're always willing to risk your life. Why you've given up any shot at a normal life for a risky job and constant crises."

"Because… because someone has to. And I'm good at it, so… so I… need to—someone has to do it."

"Why does someone have to do it?"

Understanding, Michelle answered, "So everyone else can watch _American Idol._"

"Right. Look at me Michelle," he whispered roughly, tilting her face toward his. "This is what we do. And I want you to know something: we do it together. You understand me? This isn't an easy life to live, but it's the one we've chosen.And we're in it together: you can _always_ talk to me about it. Know that, Michelle."

"I know it, Tony," she murmured, "I know it."

He grinned slightly and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Okay. Now you wanna come keep me company while I make dinner?"

She leaned into him, kissing his shoulder. "Sure," she sighed, and they stood up together. Michelle rested her head on his shoulder as they ambled toward the kitchen, her arms twined possessively around him. She wasn't normally this clingy, but tonight she just needed to feel him. Needed to know that he was really there.

Finally starting to relax for the first time in nearly a week, Michelle slid into a seat at the counter, silently accepting the glass of water he handed her. Her eyes followed Tony has he moved around the kitchen, and a feeling of contentment begantto wash over her. She was soothed by the gentle sizzle of butter in a pan, Tony's steps on the kitchen floor, the cat weaving between his legs and meowing in hopes of a treat.

But then she glanced toward the drawer where a handgun lay. One gun of many that she owned. And then her gaze focused on her open laptop on the table in the next room, where she'd been idly scanning sleeper cell profiles in hopes of finding another connection to Linden—a task she'd undertaken because she figured she might as well, not because she had to. All thoughts of returning to _American Idol_ evaporated.

Instead, she rose from her spot at the counter and sidled up behind Tony. Michelle slid her hand up behind his shirt, tracing slow circles around his back. She rested her chin on his shoulder, turning her face towards him and brushing his neck with her lips as she whispered, "I love you, Tony."

He turned back around, placing his hands on her waist, and titling his head into her neck. She could feel his hot breath tickling her as he spoke. "You are the only woman in the world who can do this, you know that?"

"Do what?" she questioned lazily, luxuriating in the feeling of Tony.

"Understand," he said hoarsely.

"Yeah?" she murmured questioningly. "I'll show you what I understand." And then her mouth was on his, their lips and mouths pressing together in an urgency neither one of them could explain. Tony, taking care not to jostle her arm, scooped her up against his chest. Squealing, she let herself be carried, nibbling at the skin on his chest as they went off toward the bedroom.

He tossed her lightly onto the bed; she tugged him down after her. Michelle's suit jacket had long ago been shed, but the sleeveless, thin, fitted silk blouse had been driving Tony insane all night, and he began fumbling with the buttons.

Giggling, she reached for the hidden zipper on the side and undid it. Tony cursed softly and nuzzled her neck as he removed her top. She wrestled his shirt off of him— within a few moments, all clothing had been shed.

And they were tangled together on the bed, Michelle straddling Tony. They kissed feverishly: tenderly, but almost frantically—but not so frantic that they weren't savoring every second, every kiss, every brush of the hand.

Finally, with neither the control nor the will to wait a moment longer, they joined as one. But the union was just as much emotional as physical. While in previous relationships for both of them, sex had been an act unto itself, the same no longer held true. It was, on the contrary, and extension of something already in existence. It was an unbreakable bond between souls and minds, making two beings one. Even as they conflicted, it was not hostility between two people: it was dissonance between the two parts of a whole. But no such friction existed now; harmony was complete.

And they solidified the harmony as they joined the two bodies that already shared a soul. Love.


End file.
